Miscarriage Isn’t the Hardest Thing I’ve Ever Been Through

Miscarriage Isn't the Hardest Thing I've Ever Been Through // young-wives.com
This is the drawing my sister did for us after we miscarried. My husband and I had a private, balloon releasing ceremony and this is her interpretation of what happened after we lost sight of the balloon.

I remember staring those two, blue lines in shock. We hadn’t been trying, then again, we hadn’t been preventing. But the last two gynecologists I’d seen had been blunt. Without medical intervention, there was no way I could get pregnant. Yet here we were with two blue lines; perfect, shocking, and wonderful.

Miscarriage Isn't the Hardest Thing I've Ever Been Through // young-wives.com

We relished the existence of that little life for around three weeks, but as quickly as it came, it left us. Silently – painfully – we endured those final moments knowing we’d never see our little one’s face this side of Heaven. Our little miracle gone in a heartbeat.

The following months were difficult, to say the least. There’s something very surreal about losing a child in utero that makes the grieving process especially hard. There is no funeral, no closure, and limited comfort. People were gracious to us in our time of grief, but the sympathies were quickly forgotten. For us, the world seemed to stop spinning, but everything and everyone else around us continued on as though nothing had changed.

Are you or something you know struggling with a pregnancy loss? Click here to check out my post on supporting a family through this difficult time.

It was a silent storm that was mostly endured from the shadows. And yet, amidst the pain and grief of parting with our first little miracle, I found myself struggling with something greater – something more difficult than the loss itself. I found myself wondering, even questioning, that this could possibly be God’s plan. After all, why would he give us a miracle only to take it away?

Of all the things I’ve shouldered and endured in my short time on this earth, this was, without a doubt, the most difficult. I didn’t question the cause or reason for my discomfort. Instead, I struggled with something that had the potential to alter the course of my entire life: Does God really have my best interest in mind? Is he qualified to hold the pen and write my story? And if so, was this miscarriage actually part of his plan for me?

That’s where I found myself. Caught in between my flesh’s desire to blame God for what happened and my spirit’s longing to embrace him as the all-knowing, sovereign Creator I had long been taught to believe in. I struggled to see his hand moving in my situation and, instead, looked for the flaws in his plan. Instead of being a faithful servant, following wherever he led me, I questioned and dug my heels into the sand. If this was God’s true colors playing out, could I trust his judgement because what else might be part of his plan?

In life, we often run into situations that put our faith in a challenging position. It may not be a miscarriage. Instead it may the loss of a job, the death of a sibling, the loss of health, or any number of other things. As hard as these situations can be, the harder thing to accept is that this is part of God’s ultimate plan.

We don’t like pain and we especially don’t like admitting that difficult times can be his tool for refinement, but that doesn’t change what God is doing in these challenging moments. Amidst our pain, the Lord asks, “Do you trust me?” Trust doesn’t change the outcome of our situation, but it entirely changes our view of what’s going on.

When we welcome him in, despite the hardship, we are not only accepting that he has a plan for our good. We are also acknowledging that he is walking through the storm with us. It’s the painful decision to praise him in the valleys and not just the high points.

For me, welcome the Lord in my time of grief was the single most difficult choice of my life. Despite my pain, I had to decide whether or not the Lord knows best. Praising him in the storms was the sacrifice he desired in those moments. As much as he loves our joyful praise, even more, he is glorified in our bitter worship.

I’ve been challenged to praise God through pain on more than one occasion. It’s a discipline that, if learned, invites us deeper into his presence. And though I don’t welcome the pain in refinement, I’m grateful for how it strengthens my faith.

God is faithful and just. I am so thankful that he does not waver and that his love is unchanging. His invitation to worship at his throne is forever open to us. We aren’t required to come, but he delights in the moments we offer him. It’s in those moments we find comfort from our pain, healing from our wounds and strength to carry on. We are reminded that his mercies are new every day. So, every day, I desire to come and lay my cares at his feet.

“Why?” is the question I asked over and over again after we lost our little one. I still struggle to understand his reason for allowing that to happen, but I no longer dwell on it. The Lord is good. Regardless of my feelings, his plans are good. And even in the moments that I struggle to grasp where I am going, he reminds me that his ways are perfect.

Miscarriage isn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. It was my personal crises of faith and choosing to believe that the Lord truly does know best.

Hannah Bowers

Founder & President

Hannah is an author, speaker, musician, and creative-at-heart with a passion for helping women reach their full potential. A homeschool graduate, she loves cooking large meals, eating Ethnic food, picking wildflowers, and discovering an endless number of things on Pinterest. Fueled by her faith in Jesus Christ, she lives with a hands-on approach to evangelism and hopes to show others Jesus' love through her actions. Managing PCOS, IBS, and a mast cell disorder on a daily basis, Hannah is passionate about reproductive health, naturopathic medicine, and midwifery. Proudly married to her former boss, the Ohio natives currently reside outside Columbus with their son.

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